Rope Burn by Tamsin Flowers

Today, the one and only, Tamsin Flowers visits to share a little Writerly Wisdom for those who want to know, and of course we’ve got a very Sexy Snippet too!

Tamsin Flowers is what you would call a proficient writer. She’s able to put her characters into seemingly any environment. Tamsin has contributed to many of our anthologies, including these titles; The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30 Vol.1, Libidinous Zombie, Tonight She’s Yours, and most recently, For The Men.

I think the reason why I write about so many different places and environments comes down to one of the reasons why I write at all – to entertain myself. Writing gives me the chance to explore different worlds and to try out different things that I’d never get to do in real life. So when I start a short story set in a time or place or milieu that’s not my own, the first thing I need to do is research. I’ll read around the topic for a while to get some knowledge of how things work and the terminology/language that’s used by the people involved. Then I immerse myself into my character’s situation and start to think along the lines of what I would do and how I’d react if I was that person, doing whatever it is they’re doing. For example, in my story “Rope Burn” (featured in For the Men), because Cally travels the rodeo circuit through the year, she’s wary of getting involved with any of the other rodeo riders – she knows they’re more likely to be interested in just a short-term fling, so she needs to guard her heart accordingly. I didn’t need to actually experience riding in a rodeo to work that out – it was just a matter of thinking what it would be like travelling that circuit, and what sorts of things might happen between the men and women who compete. Taking another example, in my story “Windfall” (featured in Tonight She’s Yours), I tried to imagine what it would be like to travel through Europe in the aftermath of the Second World War. My characters are weary and beaten down by years of deprivation when a chance encounter with a young American GI becomes a means to secure some sustenance. It’s an interesting period of European history, but for a short story, there isn’t time to enlarge on the politics of the situation – this is much more about a shared human experience which could have happened in a number of different settings, though the particular situation gave it, I think, an added poignance. So, basically, my advice to writers is to do your research so that you get the factual details right and then make your characters as human as you possibly can as you put them into a specific situation.

#SexySnippetRope Burnby Tamsin Flowers

“Cally Carson, you really don’t know, do you?” he said, as he finally got me naked.

“What?” I whimpered, hardly coherent.

“What you do to men, Cally. What you do to me.”

“Untie me, Ray.”

Ray pulled me up into a sitting position and did as I asked. It was my turn to rip open the press studs on his shirt. He shrugged it off and between us we got rid of his boots and pants. I laughed—even his shorts were black. But my laughter died in my throat as my hands reached out to touch his chest. His skin was warm and tanned, and amid the sprinkling of black, there were one or two gray hairs. Ray Jackson was a man with experience. However, his muscles were as hard and lean as those of a younger man. On one side of his rib cage, I traced a faded white scar with my finger.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“A present from the first calf I roped,” he said. “But no other calf since ever managed to get a hoof on me. I learned a lot from that critter.”

His weight drove me back against the straw, and his mouth ground down on mine. Fireworks went off deep inside, and a charge buzzed between my legs. I groaned as his fingers pinched and twisted my nipples. His cock rest against my thigh and I reached down and took hold of it. It bucked in my hand, and I tightened my grasp on it. It was hot and hard, and I needed to get it inside me.

“You got a jacket for this thing?” I whispered in his ear.

“Sure,” he said.

He leaned away from me and reached for his jeans, pulling a small rectangular package from one of the pockets. He ripped it open, and I raised my head to get a better view. Yes, of course, it had to be—the condom he rolled down his beautiful cock was black. I reached out and finished the job for him and a second later I pulled him down onto me and guided him inside.

“Oh, Cally,” he sighed with the first thrust.

I echoed him with a short, sharp gasp and hitched my legs up around his waist. He was big, and as he pushed down into me, I could feel myself stretching to accommodate him. It was a pain that hurt so good. My hips pushed up against his. I wanted him to go further, deeper inside me than any man had been before. I let myself open up for him and, with my arms and my legs, I clung to him as he drove me hard against the straw-covered floor.

It was fast and rough with Ray Jackson. The way I liked it. He took his pleasure and came with a loud yell but, as he did, he thrust a hand down between us and worked my clit until he carried me over the brink as well. He pushed in hard as he climaxed and my muscles clenched around him. My orgasm came in like a wildfire, wave after wave of heat flashing through me.

We were sweaty and the straw stuck to us, and when he pulled off the condom, it stuck even more. I had scratches on my back, and Ray’s knees were grazed, but he kissed me again and plunged me straight back into the zone. My breath grew short, so he sat back against the wooden wall of the stable and swung me across his lap. He used one arm to hold me against his chest and with his other hand, pushed my legs apart.

“Look at you, beautiful,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes, and he laughed. Gently, and slowly at first, he stroked my inner thighs and the rise of flesh below my belly. His fingers traced a path down one side of my labia and up the other; he teased me until I was panting for him. My hips pushed down against his naked lap and I nuzzled at his neck with my mouth. And as he explored me with eager fingers, I was rewarded with the feel of his cock getting hard again underneath me.

“Will you let me take you out riding and make love to you in the forest?”

“Yes.”

“Will you let me eat your pussy in the back of my truck?”

“Yes.”

“Will you let me tie you up again, Cally?”

“Yes.”

“Will you let me tame you, wildcat?”

“No. Never that, Ray.”

He laughed again.

Nothing feels so good as the first push of a cock forging into you. I arched back against him, and he dropped his head down to suck one of my breasts into his mouth. He bit me hard, and it made me come, and this time it lasted longer. The spasm of my muscles around him returned the favor and his hips bucked beneath me as he climaxed, withdrawing at the last moment because this time, he didn’t have a condom on.

We were both spent. We sat together in the warm, dark stable for I don’t know how long, listening to the horses fidget as they flicked their tails at imaginary flies and blew raspberries at one another. And after a time, Ray helped me get dressed and took me back to my motel. Up in my room, he drew me a bath and washed away the straw and the muck from the stable, and the sweat from a hard day’s riding and a hard night’s fucking. He kissed me and tucked me into my bed and then vanished into the darkness. The next afternoon, I went to the arena and watched him being crowned champion calf roper for another year.

So, sure, I picked up a bad case of rope burn at Fort Madison last September. But I know someone who got it just as bad as me. And his name is Ray Jackson.